AJ was about to ask how he could be sure.
Cooper explained without being asked.
“These six people plugged into our algorithm . . . orphaned, or weak family relations. Five of them had an anonymous benefactor.”
“Pohl?” Sasha asked.
“Possibly. We haven’t cracked that file yet. We’ll get there,” Cooper told her. “All six of these people graduated from Richter, changed their names, and bought a flat somewhere in Europe. No records of employment, no air travel, no leases on vehicles . . .”
“All we found were bank accounts with minimal activity,” Claire added. She looked at Neil, then Sasha.
Sasha offered a small smile.
Neil stared at the board.
“Do you recognize any of these people, Sasha?”
She unfolded from the sofa and crossed to the board.
AJ enjoyed her catlike walk and the way her legs went on forever until they reached her ass. He grinned, wondered if the bite he’d placed there the night before left a mark.
“This one. I didn’t know him, but his roommate, Pierre Dufort. Pierre I could see in The Mandarin File. I don’t recall anything remarkable about this guy.”
“Maybe he excelled without letting on. Either way, he fit the profile. We are pulling pictures and files from as many sources as we can to match up roommates and determine if there are any missing links.”
AJ stared at all the pictures, dots, and lines. “How is any of this getting us any closer to finding out who killed my sister?”
Sasha pivoted and gave him her full attention.
“It’s all in the details and the patterns.” Sasha placed her hand over Amelia’s picture. “You started here, which led us to here.” She pointed out Olivia. “I see Olivia as ground zero and all her roommates as victims. Is Olivia taking them out? Or is Olivia being flushed out? Is Olivia even alive? Does it stop here, or if we keep digging, will we find other cells of dead or missing Richter alumni who all have a Mandarin File operative in the mix? We won’t know without the groundwork. Why is Pohl so invested that he singles me out as a kidnapper? Or maybe Pohl knows exactly who murdered your sister and these other women. We crack the benefactor code and find Pohl feeding that pond, and now we have a motive.”
“A motive for him to kill innocent women?” AJ asked.
“Maybe Olivia went rogue. Maybe your sister and Olivia had a relationship after Richter? We have more questions than answers, so we keep digging. Now that we can prove Claire isn’t a minor, and I’m not a kidnapper, I can get back to doing what I do best.” She turned to stare at Neil.
The hair on AJ’s nape prickled.
“No,” Neil said clearly.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re still a target.”
Sasha placed both hands on her hips. “Not if I look like your grandmother.”
“Don’t fight me on this.” Neil’s words made her stand taller.
AJ’s palms started to sweat. “Where would you go?”
“I’ll find Olivia.”
“How? Go back to Germany?” AJ asked. His pulse rose with his voice. The thought of her running off, even if she was more equipped to handle herself than anyone he’d ever met, made him ill.
“If I have to.”
“We just escaped, and you want to go back?” Claire asked.
Isaac stood from his perch behind his computer while the printer buzzed to the side. “I don’t think you have to go that far east,” he said.
He grasped the picture, walked through the center of the room, past everyone, and tacked it up on the board. “Anyone in this picture look familiar?”
AJ narrowed his eyes, moved closer.
“Well, that’s Creepazoid,” Claire said from the side.
AJ swallowed . . . hard. There were four men, all standing together and posing for the picture. “That’s my father.”
Sasha moved closer to the picture, looked back at AJ.
“Where was this taken?” Neil asked Isaac.
“Board of directors meeting for Richter. Found this buried in a brochure for the school right before Alex Hofmann Senior took on the position as ambassador.”
Acid started to roll in AJ’s stomach. What the hell was his dad doing beside Pohl?
Neil crossed his arms over his chest. “You want out in the field, Sasha, looks like you have a target. You and AJ visit his dad and—”
“I work alone,” Sasha said, her lips a thin line.
Neil turned his head slowly in AJ’s direction.
“Not this time.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You sure Shannon won’t mind?” Sasha asked Trina as she rummaged through the closet of Trina’s friend to fill a suitcase. Dressing like herself would not be a part of the plan for the next several days. Only one skintight black outfit had been tucked into the bottom of the case for if and when she needed to disappear at night. All she was missing was a wig or two. Not something Trina had on hand. Neil had a couple of different styles en route to the airplane that would take her and AJ to the East Coast.
“We’ve already gone over this. Shannon thinks the world of you.”
Sasha wasn’t used to hearing things like that. She was pretty sure her expression showed her doubt.
Trina turned away, reached on a high shelf, and removed two more sweaters. “We all do. If you gave us half a chance, you might realize that.”
Sasha paused midstream, looked up from the suitcase. Her heart did a double beat and the feeling of blood rushing too quickly from her head had her sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry . . . that wasn’t called for,” Trina said.
“No. It’s not uncalled for.” Sasha tossed a shirt into the suitcase and stared at her hands. Then, in Russian, she muttered, “I don’t know how.”
Trina set the sweaters down and sat on the bed next to her.
“I came to that conclusion a long time ago. I just thought that with time you’d realize that there are people here who care about you and that maybe you’d let us in.”
She wanted to say she was trying but knew that would be a lie.
“I remember when you texted me after Wade proposed. In fact, I took a screenshot of the message because it meant so much that you reached out to congratulate me.”
Sasha remembered that night. Wade had pulled his then girlfriend up onstage during a concert and then proceeded to propose to her in front of thousands of fans. Sasha had been in the wings, playing security without Trina even knowing she was there. Like everyone in the audience, she’d been stunned to see the open display of love and affection and more than a little moved by it.
“You deserve happiness,” Sasha said.
“So do you. From where I’m sitting, you deserve more happiness than any of us. You’ve touched the lives of everyone here. You were a big part of helping Reed and Lori, keeping her away from your fath—Ruslan.” Trina stuttered on the word father. Ruslan Petrov may have been the sperm donor, but he wasn’t her father.
“You’ve gone into battle with Neil and his team. You stopped Ruslan from destroying all of our lives. You helped Avery find and chase away her demons, and you even flew all the way to Barcelona just to tell Shannon to stop being selfish and think of others before flying halfway around the world to escape her problems. Now you’re helping that poor girl and AJ, a man you’ve only known a few weeks.” Trina stopped long enough to stare.
Sasha took a deep breath.
“You help everyone. We trust that you’ll be there. When will you trust that we will be here for you?”
“The moment you trust someone to be there is when they leave,” Sasha muttered.
Trina squared her shoulders, placed her hands on her knees like she was going to stand. “You can’t say that about anyone here. You trust us all, right now, just by being here. Now all you need to do is open the door a little wider and realize people love you.”
She flinched.
Trina grinned and stood. “So
, what is your disguise going to be? The Valley girl housewife or something completely different?”
The change of subject put Sasha at ease. “I haven’t decided yet. Depends on what will throw AJ’s father off the most.”
Trina removed a long coat, tossed it on the bed. “I hope for AJ’s sake his father isn’t involved in any of this.”
Not likely. “I agree.”
“You know, I didn’t quite see you with a guy like him.”
Okay, now they were moving into completely uncharted territory. Sasha stood, took a defensive position over the suitcase, and continued to pack. “I’m not with him.”
“That’s not how it looked to me.”
“He’s an itch.” Even saying it out loud felt like a violation.
Trina grinned. “Well, I haven’t seen you scratch anyone. I kinda always pictured a guy with more tattoos than suits and riding beside you on a motorcycle.”
She couldn’t stop her amusement. “I’ve scratched that guy a time or two.”
Laughing now, Trina nodded. “I knew it. AJ just seems so, I don’t know . . . normal. Not a rebellious bone in his body.”
Sasha thought of the night before, the way he held her down when he crawled on top of her. His occupation.
“Ohhh, I want to know what caused that expression,” Trina teased.
Sasha wiped the smirk off her face. “He knows when to be defiant.”
“I’ll remember that.”
The two of them finished packing a suitcase full of borrowed clothing and walked out of the room.
“And don’t worry about Claire. Between hoop jumping for Neil and helping me out with Lilly, we’ll keep her busy.”
“I wasn’t worried about Claire,” Sasha lied.
“Sure you weren’t. Just take care of you. No crazy risks.”
“I’ll try.”
AJ sat across from Sasha on yet another private plane, this time just the two of them and a plane that belonged to an oil company. Apparently there was no end to the wealth accumulated by her friends. They were an hour out from DC, where they had a rental car waiting.
Sasha was transforming. First the blue contacts went in, then the pale foundation that washed much of the color from her face. It was as if she were diluting her genes out of her system right before his eyes.
“Who is the one celebrity that you’d give it all up for to be with for one night?”
Her question caught up with his brain and he stuttered. “Ex-excuse me?”
“Celebrity crush. Who is it? Or artist. I’m not sure what blows your horn more.”
She lined her lips with pink, filled it in with a nude lipstick.
Two Jennifers came to mind. “Is there a reason for this question?”
She smacked her lips together, peered over her nose while she put the cap on the lipstick and placed it back in her makeup bag. “I need a name. Sasha isn’t going to work.”
Ohhh . . . “Jennifer.”
She held her breath, stared in disbelief. “Jennifer it is.”
He was starting to like this fantasy.
“Do your parents know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing?”
“They haven’t known what I was doing since the seventh grade.”
“When was the last time you spoke?”
“At Amelia’s funeral. Wait, I did speak to my mom right before I flew to Germany.”
“Not your dad?”
“No.” He had made a routine of avoiding conversations with his father as much as humanly possible.
“Did you hint at flying overseas?”
AJ pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was angry he wasn’t looking into Amelia’s death harder. I was an ass . . . didn’t realize that she was grieving and wasn’t in a place to process anything other than the fact that my sister was gone.” The weight of that sat in his chest.
“Have you processed that?”
AJ glanced up, had a hard time meeting her eyes. “Probably not. It’s why I’m still functioning.”
“Falling apart later is a good plan,” she said softly.
He glanced over, found her studying her image in the mirror. “When was the last time you fell apart?”
AJ noticed her fists clench.
“Do you? Fall apart?”
He saw her go through a process . . . deep breath, relax her hands, ease her shoulders, close her eyes, and blow air out slowly. He’d seen this before . . . her reset button. He’d bet money she’d change the subject with her next words.
“You went to Vegas. Wanted to get lost in your grief. We met, spent the next several days consuming tequila and blowing money. You went back with me to LA. I rent a guesthouse in the Hollywood Hills. Not traceable. I wait tables. You’ve been footing the bill. My clothes, trip back home. You think I’m the one.”
AJ ignored her change of subject, smiled at the way her resolve and control centered her. Apparently later hadn’t come for her, and falling apart wasn’t an option.
“The one?”
“Yeah. Jennifer Stone. Waitress and insecure. Never graduated from college, wanted to be an actress. I’ll play it close enough to perfect to where they won’t dismiss me on sight but want to know more about me. When your mother . . . or maybe your father opens up, that’s when you start asking questions.”
AJ sat back, rested his ankle on his knee at thirty thousand feet. “What kind of questions?”
“About raising children . . . boarding school? I’m the one, you’re thinking about those things. How did your parents manage with your father working all the time? What was the goal? Did they regret anything? This is when you capture as much information as you can.”
Could he do that?
“Stay focused. Don’t fall down an emotional rabbit hole. Your sister’s death has made you reconsider a lot of things. And that’s what I want you to think about when we’re there. Amelia. Can you do that?”
“Explain to me why we can’t walk in there, show my father the picture, and ask what the hell is up?” Confront the question head-on. That was his way.
Sasha placed both hands on the table, stared with her lips in a thin line. “How well do you know your father? Do you know his friends, their friends? How about his time as the ambassador? How much were you aware of, living in the States while your sister was at Richter?”
Her questions were fired off so fast he couldn’t begin to answer them.
“If your father is guilty of anything, he won’t answer your questions with the truth.” She paused. “But you already know that. We stay long enough to gather information, for me to get into your father’s computer, see if there is any connection still lingering between him and Pohl.”
“I can’t fathom my father having anything to do with Amelia’s death.” He pictured his father’s face at the funeral. He’d aged five years that week. He said next to nothing to anyone at the funeral or the reception after. It was his mother who thanked everyone for coming and played hostess.
“He may have no idea. Before we leave, we’ll know one way or the other.” Sasha turned back to the mirror, picked up the dirty blonde bob cut wig and pulled it over her head. Within a few minutes she’d managed to tuck and comb away any sign that the hair wasn’t her own. She shook her head several times, fluffed the edges, and turned to smile at him. “What do you think?” Her question was said with her perfect American accent.
He walked over to her and touched the edges. Before she could protest, he leaned down and kissed her. “Not bad, Jennifer.”
Sitting in the passenger seat of an economy rental car while AJ drove them from the airport to Amelia’s condo offered Sasha the opportunity to watch his emotions. The closer they came to his sister’s place, the harder he gripped the wheel.
“You certain your parents haven’t gone in and cleared the place out?”
AJ shrugged. “I told them I’d do it. My mom wasn’t in a place to do anything when I left.”
“Your dad?”
“I never could read
the man. Hopefully you’ll have better luck.” They’d picked up a dozen empty boxes that were in the trunk of the car. While they looked for any possible clue that Amelia may have left behind, they’d disguise their effort by packing some of her belongings.
He turned into a shared driveway and pulled into a parking space beside a compact car.
“Hers?” Sasha asked.
AJ nodded.
She placed her hand over his and squeezed.
He grasped ahold and held on.
“Ready?”
“Fall apart later, right?”
She could practically taste his pain. “That’s right.”
He faked a smile and pushed out of the car.
The second they were out, Sasha placed her hand in his and held on like a good girlfriend who was being supportive to her guy would.
They walked into the building and took the elevator up to Amelia’s condo on the third floor.
Bits of the police tape hung from the entry. Evidence that the condo had been through a police investigation started at the door. Black powder used for dusting for prints peppered the frame.
AJ hesitated, then pushed past the door, and walked inside.
Once they were secure, she let loose his hand and dropped the smile.
The condo looked like it had been overturned and then someone attempted to put it back together. Mail overflowed the box sitting by the mail slot.
Sasha started doing her thing. “How long did she live here?”
“Since she took the position at the UN. Five years. She wanted a place she could lock up and leave when she was traveling.” AJ picked up the mail that had fallen onto the floor and took it to the countertop separating the kitchen from the living room.
Clean lines, nothing fussy about the furniture. The monochromatic beige and shades of white reminded Sasha of the dorms at Richter. The only pops of color were two bright green pillows on the sofa and a framed picture hanging on the opposite wall. Sasha peered closer, recognized Amelia. “Do you know who is in this picture with your sister?”
AJ looked up from the mail. “No idea.”
Say It Again (First Wives) Page 19
